Night
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: Alfred sees through the fire. (One-shot for Growing Gracefully.)


_Alfred came home when it was dark, but he knew his way around the apartment without any lights on and didn't stumble into any of the furniture. He checked on his daughter first, happy she was sleeping, and then slipped into his bedroom. Arthur was awake, he knew from the man's habit to stay up until Alfred came home, but his even breathing sounded too close to slumber. Alfred toed off his shoes and climbed into bed, right beside his partner._

_Sure enough, Arthur was up._

"_Hi…," he mumbled sleepily. He shifted over to press up against Alfred's chest. "What time is it…?"_

"_Just a little past two," Alfred murmured. He ran a hand through Arthur's hair, so happy to feel it was soft. He imagined how tousled it looked from the pillow. It made him smile. "You don't have to stay up for me. I always come home."_

_Arthur hummed a sound Alfred guessed was something of contentment. He was drifting further into sleep._

"_Sweetheart…?" Alfred started. He pressed his face into Arthur's hair as his heart began to race. Flashes of _that_ image skirted across his mind, and he almost lost his resolve. "Do you…still love me…?"_

"_Yes, of course," Arthur replied faintly. "Who else could I…possibly love…? You are it… All that I want…"_

"_And you'll…never leave me?" Alfred felt weak. He took Arthur's hand to remind himself this was real. "Right…?"_

"_I will never…leave…"_

Alfred didn't wake with a start or fall into a mess of his own tears. Instead, he woke to the darkness and the stillness of his room. Reaching over to the spot beside him was an indent of someone who was once there, he sighed until his entire body deflated. It hurt to be awake, but it was worse to be asleep, to fall into a memory that only laced this moment with all the scathing and hot burn of a broken world.

Sitting up, Alfred pulled Arthur's pillow to his chest, inhaling the scent that still clung to it. Then, he began to cry. It was night, but not late enough that Grace would be asleep and he didn't want to alert her of his tears. He sobbed into the pillow, stroking the corners and pretending they were someone's back.

He tried to breath, tried to stay upright and not just fall down into himself and into this depression where he knew he'd never get out of. He had to stay on top of this or else he could lose focus at work. There was only one ending to something like that happening. But it was hard, and he felt wave after wave barrel down on him as he thought of the countless times he had to just _ask_ Arthur, but didn't and the multitude of things Arthur had said, but hadn't actually showed.

"Why…?" he asked himself, knowing he wouldn't hear any answer. The only one he wanted was from the only person not here.

"Daddy?"

Alfred snapped up, flinging the pillow behind him in a desperate attempt to hide any fact that he was vulnerable.

"H-hey Grace. What're you doing up, baby?"

Grace shuffled into the room. Her silhouette was outlined by the blare of the hallway light behind her. She looked younger in her large sweatshirt that pooled around near her knees and hid her hands. It was an old firefighter's sweatshirt Alfred used to wear that Grace had claimed when she was young. She only wore it when she was upset.

Alfred opened his arms to her, and she climbed into his lap as she had done when she was a child. She was most certainly not a child, having finally started to mature in her adolescence, but there were times she still clung to her daddies.

"I miss papa," she croaked before she began to cry.

Alfred hugged her tight to his chest, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "I do too…"

They remained that way for a short while, just holding each other and silently lamenting over the fact their apartment was missing a vital member of their family. But even if they called him right now to let him know he was loved and missed, he would hang up. Arthur left home with all of the weight on his shoulders, hunching him over until he became bitter, thinking everyone was out to get him. In hindsight, Alfred should have caught on to this earlier.

When they first met, Arthur was the same. He was scared and lonely and untrusting of every person he met. He hardly left his home, keeping to his safe environment of repetition. To see him regress into such a state really wasn't all that surprising, now that Alfred thought about it.

"Baby…can I tell you something…?" Alfred asked. Grace nodded. She got out of Alfred's lap to sit beside him. He stalled until she finished wiping her face to continue. Clasping his hands between his legs and looking down to the ground, he waited as the tremors subsided that tensed up his back and neck. "Today…when I got home… I was here before you. I came in…in here…and… Your father's side of the closet was empty…"

Grace slapped her hands to her face as she began to weep again.

Why did Alfred tell her? Even he couldn't reply, but it was probably his way of relieving himself too. The men at the station knew of the situation, but they had all agreed to keep this as secret as possible. Grace couldn't even go to her friends. With the upcoming election and Arthur's hard work to destroy Prop 13, nothing of this fractured relationship could be leaked out. It would destroy so much more.

"W-will he…ever c-come b-back?" Grace stuttered as she cried harder. Alfred took her back into his arms. Slowly, he began to rock her.

"I don't know, baby girl… I can't…say for certain I know anything anymore… If I try to talk to your dad, he just… Man, he tells me he needs more time, but I don't know how much longer… Shit, if it goes on longer, he might never let me talk to him…"

"I want him to come home…" Grace sniffled loudly.

That one phrase, that simple, yet amazingly strong sentence was what brought it all back. A torrent of strength lit up inside of Alfred. He sat up straighter. The feeling surged through his body, freezing him in all of the best ways until he felt all of his limbs flow with blood once more.

"Grace…you know how papa and I met, right?" Grace nodded. "Well, we never told you of another time I saved his life. Before you were born, we lived in another apartment, but it caught on fire. Someone stupid left their oven on when they left and it caught fire, and soon the entire complex was burning. Your papa was still inside. Part of the ceiling collapsed and fell on top of him."

Grace gasped, but Alfred continued. He was staring intently straight ahead.

"I was there. I ran through the fire, trying to fight to get to him. I kept going even though it felt like I'd never get there." He looked at Grace with the most strength he'd had in his eyes in months. There was even a small smile starting to form. "I'm going to do that now. This place is on fire. I can't sit by and not do anything to help us. I can't just let Arthur lie there, burning."

Grace straightened up at this. Alfred's energy was palpable in the still room, giving her strength and ceasing all of the tears. She nodded.

"No one deserves to be alone," she said.

Alfred smirked at this. "Naw, we're fine. We've got each other."

Her smile faltered slightly. "No, I meant papa…"

The image of Arthur alone in a hotel with only his tears to answer his pain seared itself into Alfred's mind. He looked back at the closet. Standing, he strode up to the door and opened it. For a moment he just stood still and looked inside. Then, he turned and went to his nightstand. He pulled open the drawer and picked up his wedding ring. It was clean, almost like new, given how little use it's had in the past years.

"I'm going to save us…"

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: While working on my next FST, I came up with this little bit. It takes place shortly after Arthur moves out, and just before Alfred comes to him with an invitation to see a counselor. This was the, if you'll excuse the pun, fire that was lit up under his butt to get into gear.


End file.
